I nodded in understanding.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jared and that woman emerging from a mall across the street, arms wrapped around each other. The two laughed and teased one another like a pair of lovers madly in love.

This time, I finally got a clear look at her face.

Clenching my coffee cup tightly, I let a cold smirk tug at the corners of my mouth.

So, it was her. She really knew how to put on a show.

Jared made a point to come home during lunch, bringing a Tiffany Victoria necklace to "make amends."

"I’m sorry, darling. The art exhibition kept me up until late last night, and I ended up crashing at the office," he said, his voice filled with regret. His eyes were slightly red, as if he’d been up all night agonizing over something.

"I didn’t balance work and life well," he continued, guilt-ridden, while carefully fastening the necklace around my neck. He then took my hand gently, brushing his thumb over the back of it in an apologetic, almost ingratiating manner—the way he always did when he tried to win me back after upsetting me.

Suppressing my disgust, I smiled and reassured him. "It’s okay. The exhibition is your labor of love for the past three years. It’s only right to give it your all."

Lowering my gaze, I cut a piece of steak and held it up to his lips. "Eat something. You must be starving after working through the night. Your lips are so dry, and your eyes are bloodshot."

Perhaps sensing the subtle undertone in my words, his expression froze for a moment. Flustered, he swallowed the steak, then leaned his head against my shoulder, feigning affection.

"My darling always worries about me. Just give me a little more time. Once I’ve proven myself, my family will have no choice but to agree to our marriage. And when that day comes, I’ll give you a wedding that you’ll remember for the rest of your life."

In the past, when he talked about our future wedding, my eyes would tear up, and I would dream about it with him.

Now, I realize how laughably naïve I was.

Jared had taught me the hard way. 'When a man lies, he doesn’t even blink.'

I pushed him away, revolted. No matter how expensive the cologne, it couldn’t mask the stench of betrayal.

Countdown: Day Five

I visited my family home for the first time in three years to retrieve some keepsakes my grandmother left behind.

My stepmother greeted me with her usual snide remarks, muttering to my father, "Look who finally remembered her roots. Did that painter boyfriend of hers dump her?"

My father shot her a warning glance and came over, forcing a smile as he tried to defuse the situation. "It’s been so long since we’ve seen her. Why bring up unpleasant things?"

Back then, Jared had slapped my stepmother across the face while standing up for me, a slight she’d never forgiven.

As I stood there, Molly, my half-sister, suddenly appeared and threw herself into my arms, nuzzling me like a kitten. "Sis, you’re finally back! I missed you so much!"

Molly always acted harmless in front of me, but behind my back, she schemed to take everything I had.

When I gently pushed her away, she made sure to tilt her neck just enough for me to notice the faint hickey on her skin.

No need to guess whose it was—Jared’s.

The photos, the chat logs, and now the pregnancy. She was in a hurry to push me out of the picture, desperate to marry Jared before her belly grew too obvious to hide.

After all, my father was obsessed with his reputation. If he found out she was pregnant out of wedlock, he wouldn’t hesitate to disown her.

For a moment, I actually pitied her.

Even without me in the picture, Jared would never marry her.

Who would accept the daughter of a bar dancer, especially someone from a family like Jared’s?

Molly's reckless behavior now was proof enough—her unborn child was destined for a bleak future.

I went upstairs to my grandmother's old room. Everything was still just as she had left it.

At least my father still had a shred of filial piety.

Years ago, when he cheated on my mother, it drove her into depression and turned our home into a battlefield. If not for my grandmother's constant mediation, our family would have crumbled long before.

When my mother passed away, it was my grandmother who took care of me. She was my pillar, the only light in those dark times.

Three years ago, a sudden and tragic accident took her away from me. Shortly afterward, Molly and her mother waltzed into our home with triumph written all over their faces.

It was then I discovered that the little girl who had clung to me for over a decade, calling me "Big Sis Lia," was actually my father’s illegitimate daughter.

Behind our backs, my father had bought them an apartment in a nearby neighborhood. It turned out the late nights he spent away from home was because he had a second family.

I still remember how pathetic it all seemed. Molly, who couldn’t pass her exams, cried her eyes out. I, the fool, volunteered to tutor her at her "home." Her mother praised me endlessly, and I naively called her "pretty auntie," one sweet word after another.

That day, when I returned from her house, I held the candy her mother had given me, excited to share it with my own mom.

But my mother’s reaction was nothing like I expected. She clutched her chest, sat silently on the sofa, and stared at me with anger in her eyes. Then, for the first time ever, she slapped me.

Through my tears, I couldn’t understand her reaction. I cried and accused her of being unfair, unable to grasp why she was so upset.

Now I understand the depth of her despair.

She endured years of betrayal for my sake, a silent sacrifice that left her battling breast cancer and depression until the very end.

Now, with Molly and her mother firmly entrenched in the home that wasn’t theirs, could I truly let them walk away unscathed?

With only a few days left before my departure, why not give them a parting gift?

Clutching my grandmother’s photograph and her treasured tin box, I descended the stairs.

I found Molly nestled in her mother’s arms, the pair of them murmuring sweet nothings.

When they noticed me, my stepmother’s smile vanished, replaced by a sneer.

"Rummaging around up there for so long—I was wondering what treasure you could be after. Turns out it’s just that old woman’s junk box," she taunted.

Her disdainful tone made me pause. Then she added, "Don’t tell me you’re planning to use that as your dowry?"

Hearing what she said, my father shot her a warning look.

"Lia, don’t pay attention to your aunt’s nonsense. You and Molly are both my precious daughters. When you get married, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure the Brown family respects you."

I gave him a faint smile, still indifferent. "Don’t worry, Dad. Save what little you have left. You might need it to scrape together Molly’s dowry."

The moment the words left my mouth, both my stepmother and Molly’s faces darkened.

My stepmother, teeth clenched, was the first to lash out. Pointing at me, she barked indignantly, "What are you implying, Lia? Your father’s money has been carefully saved for you both! I’ve never spent a penny on myself! Are you accusing me of squandering the family’s wealth?"

Her self-righteousness faltered as she tried to hide the bracelet glinting on her wrist. Her eyes darted nervously.

My father’s brows furrowed. Suspicion flickered in his gaze as he turned toward her.

Sensing the shift, Molly quickly stepped in. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pitifully wiped them away.

"Sis, do you have some misunderstanding about my mom? She’s always been frugal, even refusing to buy herself new clothes."

Watching her sob like delicate as a flower in the rain, I couldn’t help but grab an orange from the table.

"Stop crying. I'm just joking, Molly. Come on, have an orange."

Molly glanced down at the orange I had abruptly stuffed into her hands, and her face immediately turned pale as a sheet.

Not even half a second later, she clutched her stomach and began to retch uncontrollably. Covering her mouth and nose, she fled in a panic.

My stepmother, realizing something was amiss, froze in place for a moment before rushing after her.

I smiled knowingly at my father. "Congratulations, Dad."

He looked utterly baffled, like a monk hearing riddles. Without explaining further, I picked up my packed belongings and walked out without looking back.

—

When Jared heard I’d gone to my family home, he immediately drove over to find me.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Did that woman give you trouble?" He held my hand, genuine concern etched into his expression.

He was referring to my stepmother.

Three years ago, when she first moved into the Lewis household, she deliberately scalded me with hot coffee to assert her dominance.

When Jared found out, his eyes turned red with anger. He not only had her threatened in private but also showed up at my house the next day to deliver a stern warning in person.

From then on, my stepmother and Jared became mortal enemies. She’d often mutter under her breath that we wouldn’t last, cursing him to grow old alone, doomed to a life of solitude.

Thinking about it now, I found it all rather amusing.

If my stepmother ever discovered that her beloved daughter was tangled up with Jared—and pregnant with his child—what kind of expression would she wear?

"What’s on your mind, sweetheart? Did she bully you again?"

I shook my head, assuring him it was nothing. Only then did he relax, his tense face softening with relief.

On the way back, Jared’s phone buzzed incessantly with calls and messages.

I already knew it was Molly. She’d sent me a message earlier as well.

[I’ll give you three days to leave Jared. Otherwise, I’ll release my videos with him online and ruin his reputation!]

I laughed coldly and replied. [What you’re saying doesn’t affect me. If you want to marry him, talk to Jared yourself, dear sister.]

After sending that, I saw her typing a reply, but no message came through. She remained silent, undoubtedly panicked.

She must have realized that I had recognized her. Previously, she’d intentionally blurred her face in those videos she sent me. But what she hadn’t anticipated was that I’d catch them red-handed in public.

Jared kept stealing glances at his phone, but with me sitting next to him, he didn’t dare pick it up.

I graciously reminded him, "You should answer it. It could be something important."

Awkwardly, he chuckled before finally pressing the button on his headset.

"Hello? What is it?"

His tone was curt, tinged with annoyance.

From the other end, Molly’s pitiful and helpless voice came through, audible in my headset as well.

"Jared, my mom found out I’m pregnant. She’s forcing me to get married, or she’ll make me get rid of the baby! What should I do?"

Hearing this, Jared’s focus wavered, and he nearly rear-ended the car in front of us.

He slammed on the brakes, his arm instinctively reaching out to shield me. Clearly shaken, he quickly apologized.

"I’m so sorry, sweetheart. There’s an urgent issue at work that I need to take care of immediately."

He dropped me off halfway home, hailing a taxi and watching as I drove off before reluctantly turning back.

But I didn’t return home. Instead, I went to the cemetery to visit my grandmother.

I sat by her grave and spoke with her for a long time, pouring out everything that had been weighing on my heart.

As the sky darkened, I finally composed myself, tidied up the area, and quietly left.